Pocket Apocalypse Page 57
“Is everyone all right?” I asked. “I missed the end of the fight.” Ignoring Raina seemed like the best approach, under the circumstances.
Fortunately, I wasn’t the only one who thought so. “No one was bitten or scratched,” said Riley roughly. “Thanks for the bullets, Price.”
“How did you know?” I heard Shelby kneel beside me. She lifted my glasses off my face. “All right, you don’t have much blood actually on you—good thing you need corrective lenses, or this might be a much bigger problem. Keep your eyes closed, all right?” Something damp touched my eyelid.
Asking what it was seemed like a dangerous course of action, and so I focused on the question at hand. “Too many shots were being fired without any of the wolves going down. If we were all packing silver, that would have been a much shorter fight. Something had to be wrong.”
“So why did you still have silver bullets?” demanded Riley. The momentary gratitude I had heard in his voice was gone. That was a disappointment, but not really a surprise.
“Because I never let my weapons out of my possession,” I said. It was hard to keep my face still while I spoke, but it was also necessary: Shelby was dabbing at the area around my eyes, making it clear that the blood had not yet been totally removed. I was going to bathe in hand sanitizer when we got back to the house. “In order for someone to have switched my silver bullets for lead, they would have needed to knock me out, distract the mice, and manage the exchange without leaving anything out of place. I’m assuming you have a more centralized means of storing your weapons?”
Riley’s silence was all the answer I needed.
“You should be able to open your eyes now,” said Shelby, slipping my glasses back onto my face before she pulled away. “Just try not to wipe at them until you’ve had access to better sterilization tools, all right?”
“All right; thank you,” I said, and opened my eyes, blinking at the suddenly bright world around me. Even moonlight can seem blinding if you’ve been in total darkness for long enough. “We came out here alone, a family group and a visiting cryptozoologist who had already been exposed once. That seemed a little strange to me, but I’m not native, I don’t know how you do things. Was it strange?”
“Yes and no,” said Charlotte. Riley shot her a sharp look. She rolled her eyes and spread her hands, indicating the abattoir that the meadow around us had become. “For God’s sake, Riley, there’s no harm in telling the man how operations are usually managed, given the circumstances. Can you really look at him and say he’s not at least trying to keep us all among the living? No, Alex, this is not unusual: the Society is very wide-spread under normal circumstances, so most families or local groups survey and hunt alone. Waiting for backup to arrive from another city or state could mean someone gets killed.”
“But when we’re all together, we usually work together,” chimed in Raina, not to be left out. “So it’s weird that only five of us came out, instead of everyone.”
“It was your mother’s idea,” said Riley, sounding suddenly defensive.
Charlotte went still. It was a trick I’d seen her daughter pull more than once: all animation drained out of her, taking the sparkle from her eye and the tension from her lips as she slowly turned to stare at her husband. “What did you say?” she asked dangerously.
“I got your text,” said Riley. “You’re the one who proposed we spend some time with the family and the boyfriend,” here he indicated me with a sweep of his hand that somehow managed to imply his disgust, even though his facial expression didn’t change, “before things got really out of hand.”
“Yes, and I got your text, saying you wanted to observe Alex in the field so that we could convince Shelby to end her association with someone who was so clearly unsuitable for her—no offense, Alex,” Charlotte added hastily.
“None taken,” I said. “It’s almost a relief to know that neither one of Shelby’s parents likes me. It puts me on level ground.”
“I didn’t send that text,” said Riley.
“Well, I didn’t send the text you’re describing either,” said Charlotte.
“I didn’t text anyone; you can check my phone,” said Raina. Gabby didn’t say anything. She stood close by her sister, looking distressed—and more, looking like she understood what was going on, which put her ahead of the rest of the family. She had been away at school before the werewolves came. She had something the rest of them couldn’t get for love nor money. She had perspective.
“No one here sent any texts,” I said. “Someone’s playing you. The same someone who swapped your silver bullets for regular bullets that had been spray-painted the color you expected to see when you checked your ammunition. I really hate to be the one who says this, because God knows I can’t afford to lose any more credibility with you people, but you have a traitor in your midst.
“Someone sent you out here tonight to get the entire Tanner family killed.”
Riley and Charlotte exchanged a glance. In the distance, a wolf howled. And none of us said a word.
Eleven
“Ah, traitors. Like taxes, politics, and discussions of the weather, they remain an unavoidable, unwanted part of the human condition.”
—Thomas Price
Back in the SUV, which is a major improvement on the meadow full of dead werewolves, no question about it
WE WEREN’T MOVING.
That wouldn’t have been so frustrating if we hadn’t been sitting in the family SUV, parked off behind a stand of trees where passing motorists would be less likely to see us and wonder what we were doing out in the middle of nowhere. Even worse, we’d been parked there for the better part of an hour, which meant I’d been in an enclosed space with Shelby’s entire family for the better part of an hour. I was beginning to wonder how she’d feel about being an orphan. From the way her lip had started to twitch, I suspected she’d feel pretty good about it.
Sadly, the logic behind our temporary hold was sound. By the time we’d hiked out of the bloody meadow and back to the car, the noise would have attracted one of the local shepherds; even if they didn’t bring their flocks in at night, they had to have been monitoring them somehow, just due to the density of local predators. Once a shepherd showed up, we could count on the local authorities being called—the real authorities, not all of whom were aware of the Thirty-Six Society’s existence. We’d barely had time to move the SUV to a more well-hidden location before the emergency response vehicles came blasting down the road, their sirens running and their lights flashing, just like emergency response vehicles anywhere in the world.